Heroes Don't Cry
by Surreal13
Summary: Neal goes undercover and faces a crisis that shakes him to his core. Please read the warnings carefully as this story could be triggery for some people.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Heroes Don't Cry**  
**Author:** **surreal_44**  
**Pairings:** None  
**Words: **997  
**Summary:** While undercover, Neal faces a crisis that shakes him to his core.  
**Rating:**** Strong R, please read the warnings.**  
**Warnings/Triggers:** Mild whumpage. Drugged drink; graphic attempted rape (m/m). **Very triggery**.  
**Notes:** Written for the kink meme for **collarkink** . Prompt: _Neal is undercover at a bar, but someone slips him drugs in his drink, and leads him outside to do bad, bad things to him. Peter and the team in the van can hear what's going on, and rush to his rescue!_

The Scorpions' song "Heroes Don't Cry" helped inspire this story. Hence the title for the fic.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own White Collar. Mr. Eastin does; I'm just playing in his world.

* * *

Neal was tired and bored, even though he was at the hottest new bar in Manhattan. It was filled with beautiful, wealthy people, the music was good and the food had been even better. Normally this type of thing was what Neal lived for, but tonight he couldn't wait for this to be over. All he needed was Dirk Jansen to snap up the money 'Nick Halden' wanted to launder, and then he could go home.

Unfortunately, Dirk Jansen had excused himself from their table to talk to one of his 'business partners' almost ten minutes ago, leaving Neal alone to nurse the trendy new drink the bar was becoming famous for. He took another sip of the tangy beverage and to entertain himself, he tried to figure out what the different ingredients were.

"Jansen's still gone," Neal said quietly for the benefit of the FBI team listening in. They were parked three blocks away, waiting for Jansen to say the right thing so they could move in on him. "I dun know if's coming back."

Was he slurring his words? Alarmed, Neal lifted his gaze from his glass with effort and tried to focus his eyes at the room around him. It took him a few moments too long to realize that his limbs felt unnaturally heavy. With a growing sense of dread Neal realized that somehow, someone had slipped something into his drink. They must have figured out that he was an informant. It would explain why Jansen had left him alone.

"Guyz...sumfin was in drink...need help," Neal mumbled. He needed to get up and leave before Jansen came back. A wave of dizziness swept over him as he swiveled his head to the right to try to see if he could spot his mark. He didn't see Jansen but he saw Jerry something-or-other, one of the man's hired thugs, approaching him. Shit.

"Nick Halden?" the man demanded. Neal tried to work up a charming smile, desperately hoping he could buy himself a few minutes. It wasn't to be. Whatever he'd been given really kicked in, and his fingers lost their grip on his drink. The glass slipped from his suddenly clumsy hand and onto the floor.

The man grinned and hauled Neal up to his feet. "Looks like you had too much to drink." To anyone looking, it would certainly seem that way. Between the black dots swimming in his vision and a fresh bout of dizziness, Neal could barely keep his legs under him. He leaned heavily against the other man, woozy and completely helpless to aid in his own defense as he was dragged towards the back of the bar.

"Mr. Jansen is ready to talk. He wants to see you outside," Jerry said cheerfully. Neal stumbled against him and he grunted. "You're a lot heavier than you look." He let his hand slide down Neal's waist. Something about the movement bothered Neal, but he was too focused on trying to remain awake and aware of his surroundings to consider how ominous the action was.

"He wans me 'n da alley?" Neal slurred to let the team know where he'd be. He was hopeful that Peter and the team were already on their way. His legs did not want to cooperate and it was getting harder keep his mind alert. He managed to hang onto consciousness as Jerry pushed through the back exit and propped his body against the dumpster. The cool night air revived Neal a little, and he straightened himself up as best he could.

"Mr. Halden," Jansen said as he stepped out of the shadows. Neal squinted at the broad-shouldered businessman. There was an odd look on the man's face. Not anger or betrayal but...Neal pressed himself against the wall of the alley and tried to figure out what Jansen was wanting from him. "I like your business offer, but I think I have a more fun use for you. Jerry, remove his jacket. He won't be needing it for now."

Neal's mind reeled as he tried to comprehend what Jansen meant. Jerry hauled him away from the wall and roughly removed Neal's suit jacket. What were they...? When his belt was unfastened, he suddenly realized what they meant to do and he tried to escape the invasive hands but the drug in his system made him slow. Jerry easily restrained him as Jansen pressed himself against Neal and planted a wild, sloppy kiss on his mouth.

Neal jerked his head away, disgusted by the man's touch. He wasn't prepared for the slap across his face. His eyes watered, and not just from the sting of the blow. When Jansen kissed him again, Neal tried to bite him. The second blow made his head spin and he almost blacked out. Jerry caught him before he could collapse to the ground.

"Enough," Jansen said, his voice cold. Jerry pushed him back against the dumpster. "I'm ready for him."

"No, please," Neal moaned as his pants and underwear were savagely pulled down. He could feel someone pressing against him, could feel the man's erection against his body, felt the tip press against his hole...

_NO!_ Fear gave him enough energy to break free but it wasn't enough to help him escape.

He made it about half a step before Jerry grabbed him by the back of the hair and swung him around. The two men laughed as he staggered, disoriented. Neal didn't have time to regain his balance as he was shoved forward, his head connecting painfully with the brick wall of the building. White-hot pain flared in his skull.

"Let him go! FBI let him-" Peter! That voice, even angry and filled with anguish, filled Neal with a sense of safety. His body slumped as he began to lose consciousness. The hands holding him with bruising force suddenly released him and he started to fall. Grateful, relieved, Neal tumbled sideways to the ground and into darkness.

* * *

**tbc...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Words: **Around 846, I think.

**Warnings: Altered state of consciousness; mentions of a physical and sexual assault. Could be triggery.**

**Notes: **This was part of a deleted scene, but I know there are h/c folks out there who want to read it, so I dedicate this to all of my fellow h/c hoarders. I hope you like this. ;-)

**Thank you! **To all my wonderful readers and reviewers. I knew this story was a bit risky but I'm glad for the positive feedback on it. It really means a lot that you all continue to read my works. THANK YOU. :-)

* * *

Neal roused from a suffocating darkness into a dizzying world of spinning red lights and shouting voices. He couldn't recall why or how he'd ended up on the ground. All he knew was that his body felt sluggish and heavy and his head hurt enough to make him feel ill. The pavement beneath his body was cold, leeching the warmth from him, and a distant part of him realized that he was naked from the waist down. Vague, indistinct shadows next to him brought a flood of terror he didn't understand at first. Neal whimpered as he realized how exposed he was, but before he could panic something was placed over his hips to cover him up.

"He's awake, thank God," someone said. A warm hand gently cupped his cheek, calming and comforting in the confusion of waking in chaos. The blurry blob to his immediate left suddenly took shape. It was Peter kneeling next to him. He couldn't see very well; it was dark and whatever had happened to him was still affecting his eyesight, but he would know that silhouette anywhere.

"Pe…Peter?" The word was little more than a croak. Neal's tongue felt dry and heavy, and it seemed two sizes too big for his mouth. He blinked, struggling to keep his eyes open as someone shined a too-bright light down on his face. All the movement and lights were making his already throbbing head pound even more. If he could just close his eyes…

"Hey Neal. Hey, look at me, ok?" Peter jostled his shoulder gently. "Come on buddy. Wake up. No sleeping on the job." Neal groaned. He was groggy and tired enough that even with all the commotion around he was sure he could sleep undisturbed. Except that Peter wouldn't leave him alone.

"There we are," his partner encouraged as Neal reluctantly opened his eyes once more. "Stay with me, Neal. Do you remember what happened?"

The question helped him focus and sort through the jumble of terrifying memories. Tears prickled his eyes as he recalled what had happened. The case against Jansen, the laced drink, the alley. Not raped, but close. Too close.

"Jansen…the money laundering. Drugged. I didn't…" Neal's mouth couldn't keep up with his thoughts, his words tangling together as he struggled to explain what had gone wrong. He looked up at Peter with panicked expression as a few tears slid down his cheek. "Jansen didn't talk. The case, Peter. He didn't…Your job…"

Peter brushed away the moisture with his thumb. "Neal, you were attacked. We have it on tape and I saw Jansen…I saw him. Don't even worry about the case, all right? Don't worry," Peter was quick to reassure him. Neal sighed and turned his face a little more into Peter's palm. He was too tired to argue, and now that the tears had started he couldn't seem to stop them. It was so humiliating, and…and…

"EMS is almost here, Neal. Stay with me. Are you in pain?" Peter asked in a stern, commanding voice that never failed to irk Neal. Even though he was dazed, the tone had the same effect it always did. Neal roused enough to scowl up at Peter as his partner repeated the question.

"Are you injured? Come on Neal, help me out," Peter sounded worried and a little desperate. Neal sighed in resignation. Peter wasn't going to let him sleep until he answered, and he sounded so worried. He could do this for Peter. Was he in pain? It took longer than normal to figure the answer out, but at last Neal knew what he needed to say.

"Mmm…head," Neal responded, his voice barely audible, and reached up a hand to show Peter where it hurt the most. He was surprised when his fingers touched something warm and sticky. Was he bleeding? It didn't seem too bad but then again his vision kept threatening to melt into darkness, so he couldn't be sure of anything. "Hurts. Dizzy an' soooo tired. Want t'sleep, Peter. Please?"

"Not yet," The FBI agent gently pulled Neal's hand away from the injury. He barely noticed how Peter didn't let go of his hand. That was good because his head felt like it was going to float away. Peter's hand was a warm anchor, keeping him grounded so he couldn't just disappear…

"Hang on, buddy. Let the paramedics check you out first, ok? They're here. Don't go to sleep, Neal." Peter's voice was distant, but it drew Neal back from the fog that seemed to be filling the alley. Or was the fog filling him? Neal wasn't sure about either thing now, but listening to Peter was usually a good idea whenever things went wrong.

"Is this the sexual assault victim?" someone asked as they knelt beside him. Neal stiffened at the question, and Peter gripped his hand a little tighter, offering support and comfort. The FBI agent started to explain what he knew about what had happened while one of the medics checked Neal's blood pressure. Someone was asking him a question about his name…

_And then the world shifted and Neal went with it…_

_

* * *

**tbc...**  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings: Altered state of consciousness; mentions of a physical and sexual assault. Could be triggery.**

**Notes: **This was part of a deleted scene, but I know there are h/c folks out there who want to read it, so I dedicate this to all of my fellow h/c hoarders. I hope you like this. ;-)

**Thank you! **To all my wonderful readers and reviewers. I knew this story was a bit risky but I'm glad for the positive feedback on it. It really means a lot that you all continue to read my works. THANK YOU. :-)

* * *

_And then the world shifted and Neal went with it…_

When the world came back to him (or did he come back to the world?), everything was wrapped in a dreamy gauze. Neal drifted in and out of the fog, dimly aware of the things happening around him and yet unable to respond to what was happening. He felt disconnected from his body and he was so, so tired that his mind and body both seemed to be numb. It was terrifying to be so helpless but at the same time he knew that he was safe. Peter was there, keeping him anchored, preventing him from fading away.

Eventually, the fog faded and awareness came back to him in small snippets. His head hurt. He was on an unfamiliar bed, with a thin sheet and blanket covering him. A hand grasped his, warm and familiar. Ugly green walls…why would anyone choose this paint color? Neal knew he was in a hospital without any real details on _how _he knew he was in the hospital. He tried to think back, and all he could come up with were bits and pieces of memories, none of them cohesive enough to tell him the full story.

Someone was mumbling about Jansen and prison, and he wished that whoever it was would be quiet. Peter was talking, telling whomever it was not to worry, that the only people going to jail were Jansen and his cronies. There was weariness in Peter's tone that suggested he'd been repeating the same thing for some time. It took Neal a moment to realize the raspy voice was his own, and he let his voice trail off into confused silence as the room came more into focus.

The sudden silence seemed to alert Peter to the fact that something had changed, and he squeezed Neal's hand a little. Neal returned the gesture and tried to shift his body so he was sitting up a little more. He let out a wordless sound that was appallingly close to a whine when his limbs refused to move properly, but he stilled when Peter rested a hand on his chest.

"Neal, you with me again?" Peter leaned toward him, an anxious expression on his face. It took a lot of effort, but Neal carefully turned his aching head to get a better view of his partner. The movement dislodged a strand of hair, causing it to flop into his eyes and obscure his still-cloudy vision.

"When wasn't I with you?" Neal crinkled his brow, bewildered by what Peter had said. Hadn't he been with Peter this whole time? Oh, maybe not in the emergency room? Peter probably hadn't been allowed to stay with him then. Had he been sleeping? Maybe that's what Peter meant. Neal didn't think he'd been sleeping but he did feel as if he had just woken up. There were fragments of memories - an exam and nurses talking and El had been there and Peter was talking to him…or were those all dreams? Had he been asleep after all?

The bewilderment deepened when Peter let out a tired chuckle and reached over to smooth back his hair. The movement triggered a memory of Peter standing beside him, holding his hand and stroking his fingers through Neal's hair as he was examined. Well, that chucked out the dream theory and…oh god, he'd been _crying _in front of Peter and the nurses_. _Neal felt the mortified, and he jerked his head away from Peter even though it made the dull ache of his head throb a little more.

"You've been a little out of it," Peter explained gently. He sat back, allowing Neal to have his space. "The doctors said you might be a little confused. Between the drug you were dosed with and the concussion, it isn't surprising. You can be released in a few hours, once they're sure the drug is well on it's way out of your system."

"Oh," was all Neal could think of to say. Awkward silence fell over them. Neal's mind cleared a little more and he felt the utter humiliation of his situation fall on him. What made it worse was that Peter wanted to talk about what had happened. It was in his body language, and it was just as obvious to Neal that his partner had no idea where to start. Peter opened his mouth to speak, and suddenly Neal realized how very much he didn't want to talk right then. He frantically tried to think of a way to get rid of Peter when the doctor came in.

The doctor was brisk in his exam, and he sounded bored, as if he had better things to do with his time than to deal with him. It was rather apparent the man was not that interested in Neal's care and there was slight sneer on the man's face that made Neal feel ashamed of himself and what had happened to him.

Neal answered the questions to prove that he was now cognitive of his surroundings and submitted to the indignity of being treated like an idiot as the doctor explained that the drug was a homemade, unknown substance that had a similar effect as rohypnol and that they would keep him for a few more hours to be safe.

When Dr. Marshall talked about the attack, Neal got a strong sense of disapproval radiating off the man, as if he somehow thought Neal had provoked the attack. "You were lucky. It doesn't appear you were penetrated but I suggest you get tested in a few weeks just to be safe." Maybe he was just being paranoid, but Neal got the feeling the doctor thought he should get tested anyway. "I don't recommend you have sex with anyone until you get tested. You wouldn't want to put anyone at risk."

"Yes, thank you," Neal said tersely in response. The doctor gave him another disapproving glare and left the room after he told Neal to be more careful next time.

_Bastard_ Neal thought angrily, and felt his eyes burn with tears. He scrubbed at his eyes frantically when he heard the sound of Peter's footsteps approaching the room. His partner paused in the doorway, a frown on his face. Neal tried to flash him his patented smile, but judging by the expression on Peter's face, he hadn't been convincing. Peter glanced down the hallway and back at Neal, and something like anger crossed his face. Of course he had figured it out, and he would want to fix it.

_I can't talk about this. I don't want to talk about the doctor, or what happened. Go away, Peter. Please, please, please go away._

"I'm kind of tired, Peter. Why don't you go?" Neal suggested before Peter could get a word out. The FBI agent frowned, a concerned expression on his face. Neal closed his eyes and hoped that Peter would take the hint. Silently he willed the FBI agent to go away. This whole evening had been an embarrassment for both of them – for everyone. How could he go back to work after this?

"Are you sure you're ok?" the question was asked carefully, as if Peter were afraid of upsetting him. _No. No I'm not. Please stay. _Neal's traitorous mind wanted him to say. Instead, Neal opened his eyes, and gave Peter another bright smile.

"I'm fine, Peter," Neal assured his partner. He wished his voice wasn't still hoarse and that his eyes weren't threatening to close every five seconds. In truth he felt like shit but he wanted Peter and all his awkward attempts to be kind to just leave.

Peter hesitated a moment longer, but then he sighed and nodded his head. "All right. Call me when they're ready to release you, I'll pick you up."

"Yeah, sure," Neal said without any enthusiasm. Peter opened his mouth to say something else but he changed his mind when he looked at Neal's face. He simply nodded and quietly left the room. Alone at last, Neal curled his fingers in the blanket and tried to forget.

**tbc...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Heroes Don't Cry**  
**Author:** **surreal_44**  
**Pairings:** None  
**Summary:** While undercover, Neal faces a crisis that shakes him to his core.  
**Rating:**** Strong R, please read the warnings.**  
**Warnings/Triggers:** Mild whumpage. Drugged drink; graphic attempted rape (m/m). **Very triggery**.  
**Notes:** Written for the kink meme for **collarkink** . Prompt: _Neal is undercover at a bar, but someone slips him drugs in his drink, and leads him outside to do bad, bad things to him. Peter and the team in the van can hear what's going on, and rush to his rescue!_

The Scorpions' song "Heroes Don't Cry" helped inspire this story. Hence the title for the fic.

I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter but I've picked at it so long I know it's time to just let it go.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own White Collar. Mr. Eastin does; I'm just playing in his world.

* * *

It was less than twelve hours since he'd arrived at the hospital but he'd had his fill of the place and had insisted that he could be released. He'd already called June to ask if she'd pick him up since Dr. Marshall wouldn't release him unless he had someone to look after him on his journey home. She'd agreed immediately and told him she would be there as soon as possible. Relieved, he called for the nurse, and told her that he had a chaperon for the afternoon.

"You should really stay," the nurse tried to gently counsel him. "The drug is still showing up in your blood work and you have a concussion. At least stay until evening so we know the drug is totally gone."

"I'm fine," Neal said to her, and tried to reassure her with a smile. She just sighed and went to find Dr. Marshall to get let him know Neal was preparing to leave. Marshall had been nicer to him this morning. Neal suspected that Peter had had something to do with the man's attitude change but the sting of humiliation from the comments last night was still too fresh for Neal to feel gracious about the turnaround in his treatment.

"Mr. Caffrey," the doctor said as he walked briskly into the room. "Are you sure you want to leave us? A few more hours here would probably be of benefit to you."

_Yeah right. _Neal barely refrained from saying the words out loud. Even with the good doctor finally treating him like a person, Neal didn't want to stay any longer than he had to.

"I'm fine," Neal said instead, and ignored the slight tremor of his hands from the lie.

**~...~**

Forty minutes later, Neal was almost ready to leave. June had brought him a change of clothes so he could leave the hospital with some dignity. He slipped on his jeans and blue t-shirt and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The pale face that gazed back at him seemed alien. It wasn't so much the bruises and the butterfly bandages on his temple where the wall had split the skin open. It was the frightened, sickly expression on his face that made him feel as if he were looking at a stranger's face. Neal gingerly touched the most livid bruise on his forehead and winced as the dull headache he'd woken with this morning flared back to life. His reflection looked sick and tired, with dark circles under his eyes.

Neal tried a smile to banish the haggard expression on his face but his charm had apparently been abandoned in that alley along with his dignity. The grin was obviously not sincere, and it made him look a little crazed. He sighed, the smile melting away and his shoulders slumping in defeat. He would just go home and sleep.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Neal, are you all right, dear?" June asked. She sounded worried. He hated that he was the one who had made her sound that way.

"I'm fine, June," Neal called back. "I'll be right out."

**~...~**

The nurse went over the release instructions with June, explaining what Neal's injuries were, what to look for, and what to do if his condition worsened. Neal laid silently on the bed and let June ask all the pertinent questions while he dozed. The nurses had interrupted his sleep almost every hour and he was exhausted. He woke to the sensation of someone combing their fingers through his hair and he opened his eyes to see both June and the nurse watching him with concern.

"Maybe you should stay a little longer," June suggested gently as she brushed his hair away from his face. The offer was tempting since his eyes were so heavy but he figured he could sleep anywhere, and if he could pick he would choose the bed at June's.

"I'm fine," Neal reassured her. She looked unconvinced but she didn't argue as he signed the paperwork. She picked up the bag she'd brought his clothes in and told him that she would bring the car around and wait at the entrance for him.

June fussed over him as he settled himself in the passenger seat, her beautiful face pinched with worry as she regarded his clumsy struggle with the seatbelt. He'd discovered when he was getting dressed that his coordination was still off and he felt embarrassed that June had to see him like this. Finally the seatbelt clicked into place and he let out a sigh of relief.

Silence fell over them as they pulled away from the hospital. Neal fidgeted in his seat, wanting to say something to ease the lines of worry on June's face but he couldn't think of a single comforting thing.

"I'm fine," he finally managed to say as she pulled into traffic. He would be fine. He was fine. He insisted upon it and would continue to say it until it became the truth.

June gave him a quick, searching look while they were stopped at a red light, patted his leg and said, "I know, dear."

**~tbc...**

**

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**_Thank you to all my wonderful readers, reviewers and followers! I really appreciate every single one of you!_

_Just one more chapter to go, I believe. Maybe two, if it ends up stretching out just a bit longer._


End file.
